


fragments

by goshawk18



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore
Genre: Character Study, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 07:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13266834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goshawk18/pseuds/goshawk18
Summary: short, incomplete character studies that I will fix later





	1. persephone

Now:

Persephone claws her way from beneath the earth, soil and netherworld miasma clinging to her dark body. The goddess’s eyes are hard emeralds that squint shut in the glare of the morning light. Her bare feet kick at the ground, and the crevice she emerged from closes, seamless and undisturbed. 

Gasping and shaking from exertion, she stands still, staring at her surroundings with parts of disbelief and relief that she is actually here and not there. Brushing debris from her shoulder, she breathes deeply and shuts her eyes, soaks in the sunlight as the trees and flowers do. She hears susurration, a burbling creek, the beating wings from a skein of ducks, the distant barking of a dog. Moist soil clumps in between her toes. A deer darts between the foliage.

Fingertips ghost along her jawline. 

Rage galvanizes Persephone; lightning crackles in her mouth. She shoves at the spectral caress, snarls out: “This does not belong to you anymore!” 

As if burned, the sensation leaves. Persephone does not wait for it to return and dashes madly, clusters of flowers in riotous bloom emerging from every footstep. She shouts for her mother, kicking away the curling remnants of the Underworld from her body and lets the wind take it. The smell of ripe mangoes and an outdoor roast elicits a sharp hunger in her stomach. She shouts: this (my body) does not belong to any ancient god, this earth is my home, the triumph of one returned! The forest rings with the wildness of her laughter.


	2. demeter

Then:

A prophecy spins into existence from the breath of the Fates. It involves someone’s daughter, death, abduction, the universe balancing on a knife point. 

Demeter refuses to believe the Fates; she has only one daughter, a child she would ruin the world for. Needless to say, the Fates are not insulted, they probably foresaw her rebellion. So up to cloud wreathed Olympus she goes, cowing the lord of the skies with a divine power beyond his thunder and lightning show.

“She stays with me, do you understand?” The ground beneath their feet trembles at Demeter’s words. “She is my daughter, my blood. I will sooner curse the earth to barrenness than let her go.” 

“But- ” Zeus hastily revises his words at her vitriolic gaze. “But of course, Demeter. Nobody will steal your daughter. She is just a child. But when she is grown-“

“Never.” 

Beside him the queen of the heavens sips ambrosia and gives her assent with silence. Hera knows what stolen innocence is like; this is one bastard she can overlook. Once fair Hera assures her sister this, Demeter bows. It is the most civil the goddesses have been since Zeus’ latest infidelity. After she leaves, Hera’s private garden bursts into multicolored riots.

Her bright-eyed, cocoa skinned sapling is safe. Demeter has choked an oath for her daughter’s safety from the throat of Olympus. Here, the power of a fierce mother is displayed. Here, one may surmise that no chink can exist in the armor of a mother’s determination.

 

(But one could be wrong.)


	3. persephone

Now:

Persephone does not go home immediately. 

She wanders through acres of forest, darting across loud rivers, leaving signs of her presence in rainbow colored meadows and trees heavy with ripe fruit that fall and split open to release fruity aromas. It is Spring, but nobody knows it yet. 

Hermes finds her balanced on a massive branch of sequoia, the dying red-gold sun light dappling her arms. For once, his presence is solemn, apologetic; like a bird folding its wings to perch, the golden haired messenger’s legs dangle beside hers.

What Kore thinks: If I walk to the ends of the earth like my Mother did for me, wandering and spilling grief across kingdoms because of me, then maybe I can forget the feeling of hands on my neck. Maybe I can lose myself to the point of never being found. 

What Queen Persephone says: “Take me to my Mother.”


	4. Dionysus

Then:  
Hades smiles at the spring goddess. Heedless of darker intents, of not-quite love-lust blooming in his chest, Kore bashfully returns the gesture.

“I hope I can be as strong a deity as my mother, as uncle Hades,” she tells Dionysus after sneaking from the Olympian party, sneaking food into Athena’s library. “Did you know uncle Hades even talked to me? Me, a minor spring goddess! He thinks I could be more powerful than Mother once I grow older. I could even be a queen, but,” she laughs; Dionysus feels like he is chewing on marble, “ I’m never marrying any man, and my only love are plants.”

Dionysus chest tightens, a cold sweat gathering behind his knees, a thousand terrifying scenarios flashing through his head as he glances at the half-eaten pomegranate on her plate.

From the corner of his eyes, a lurking shadow.

“Come on,” he pulls a startled Kore to her feet, appetite thoroughly spoiled. “This party’s not my idea of fun.”

“But Mother-“

“Can shout later.” They have to leave, he has to take her far away from here, from old gods and their aged lusts, Demeter would understand; something primordial itches beneath his skin and Kore has to go now. “Don’t pretend to have fun because Dad sucks.”

Kore laughs, a little breathless from the speed of his strides. “Where will we go?”

He thinks of a silver goddess, and how close her arrows are going to hit near his head. “How do you feel about playing with Artemis’s hounds?” 

 

Now:  
Dionysus stands, pale and wet-eyed, a hand on his grape strewn table like he will collapse without the support.

He is enveloped in dark wine and silk, long brown arms encircling his waist. “Miss me?” Persephone teases, smiles in his neck and pretends not to feel his hands trembling on her back. 

“We never stopped searching,” for you, he tries not to quaver, not in front of the girl who has survived Hades. “We never stopped.” His thoughts fly to the little girl who snuck food with him, who told him he was important, who shared his wine and snorted it out in laughter.

She closes her eyes. “I know.”


	5. Chapter 5

Now:  
The hard years slide off Demeter’s lined face, and once more the goddess shines with divine rage and embraces her daughter, clutches the taller, willowy, velvet woman as if she can return her heart back in her chest.   
Demeter keeps sobbing her daughter’s name, and Persephone’s arms are the only support keeping her mother from falling apart.


End file.
